Inked: Emotional ABCs
Serpents wrap my arm
dragons glide across my back
my dreams draw my skin
‘Love me’ on knuckles
‘Kiss my–‘ tattooed on my ass
My fantasies ink expressed
No make-up in my vanity drawer.
Lipstick, eyeliner and shadow–they’re inked
on my skin ’cause application’s a bore.
Who wants to spend their precious time hoodwinked
by maybelline–’cause I wasn’t ‘born with it’.
My eyes didn’t come out of the womb khol-rimmed.
I was born a blank canvas; I commit
my pasty self to the artist’s brush trimmed
to just the right shape to recast my face
from mousy to memorable; jigsaw
my chemo-bare scalp, cause I’m a puzzle
soon to be hid beneath ink without flaw.
At the ‘ol tattoo parlor, I muzzle
the plain person who walked in and let shout
the real me that screams, thrashes, to break out.
Ink me I’m ready
set that needle to my flesh
color soaks my soul
Ink redefines me
frees my inner beast to roar
look out world, I’ve come.
~ ~ ~
Sorry to disappoint, but I have no tattoos.